The Squire's Quest (6 page)

Several voices interrupted Mordred's narrative. "A dragon! Did he say a
dragon?
"

"That's what Mother says," Mordred continued. "She had come upon the beast in a forest clearing, and it had just started toward her when this knight rode up and attacked. Killed it, too, in hard fighting. Well, the knight was wounded in the fight, and so my mother took him home to care for him. For several days, he was feverish, but my mother knew a little about healing herbs, and she saved his life. She fell in love with him, of course, and before the knight left, they ... well, I was born nine months later."

Arthur's face was still. "And do you know who this knight was?"

Mordred shook his head. "Mother says he wouldn't tell his name. All she could tell is that he wore black armor and that he didn't seem very happy. Actually, the way Mother said it was 'He bore a secret grief. Mother talked like that."

"Have you ever tried to find your father?"

Mordred shrugged. "I used to think about it sometimes, but I don't anymore. I don't really have any quarrel with him. It isn't his fault that he didn't return Mother's love. The fellow probably saved dozens of damsels in his life, and he couldn't fall in love with all of them. I suppose he shouldn't have taken advantage of Mother, but I won't judge him. I imagine in her younger days Mother was quite a beauty. And she
had
just saved his life."

"Ah, yes," said the king. "And where exactly was this knight wounded?"

"I think Mother said it was his shoulder. The left one, maybe. I'm not sure."

The king leaned back in his chair and gazed thoughtfully at Mordred. In the silence, Sir Griflet, an aging knight wearing a doublet of a preposterous shade of pink, said, "Well, really! A dragon! I mean, it doesn't sound very likely, does it?
I've
never seen a dragon, and I ve been a knight for nearly thirty years."

Several others nodded. Stories about knights slaying dragons were commonplace, but dragons themselves were not. Kai growled, "I wonder if
any
of you has seen a dragon."

After a moment, Gawain cleared his throat. "One," he said. "Remember, Tor?" Sir Tor, across the table, nodded, and Gawain continued. "Of course, it wasn't a real dragon: it was my dear aunt, Morgan Le Fay, taking a different form by sorcery. But we still saw one. And I suppose this dragon could have been part of an enchantment, too, don't you think?"

Gawain looked inquiringly at Mordred, who shrugged and smiled. "I suppose. I wasn't around yet, you know, so I really couldn't say."

"I have another question for Mordred," asked Dinadan suddenly. "If your story is true, why would no one have heard of it? A knight who saves a damsel from a dragon—well, why in heaven's name would he keep that to himself? It's rather a good tale."

"I don't know," Mordred replied thoughtfully. "Maybe the knight didn't think anyone would believe him." Mordred's smile faded, and he looked around the room. "After all, most of you don't believe me."

"Is your mother still alive?" Arthur asked.

Mordred shook his head sadly. "No. She died of a fever last month."

The king nodded. "I'm sorry, lad," he said softly. Then, in a firmer voice, he said, "We have heard a curious tale today. Some of you may still not believe it, but you shall have to decide that at another time. In the end, the story of the dragon has nothing to do with Mordred's request. Mordred, at this table we receive only those who have already proven themselves by some act of bravery. Setting aside what your father did, have you done any deeds yourself that are worthy of knighthood?"

Mordred shook his head. "I'm afraid not," he said frankly. "And, to be perfectly honest, I'm not all that skilled a swordsman, either."

"Nothing wrong with that," murmured Dinadan, which drew a laugh from the other knights. Dinadan was respected for several things, not one of which was his swordsmanship.

The king smiled faintly. "And what, may I ask,
are
you skilled at?"

Mordred hesitated. "Well, it doesn't sound very dramatic, but I've always been good with people—helping them smooth out their differences and make friends again, that sort of thing."

As Mordred said this, his face assumed an expression of limpid openness and honesty, and once again Terence felt that dread chill begin in his heart and slowly spread throughout his breast.

King Arthur smiled widely. "Don't be ashamed of that, lad. In these times of peace, I have more than enough swordsmen. But I could always use a diplomat."

"But ... but could a person earn knighthood like that?" stammered Mordred.

"I don't know why saving lives by stopping a war should be less honorable than saving lives with the sword," Arthur said. "I cannot grant your request now, but I earnestly beg you to remain at Camelot. When an opportunity arises for you to prove yourself, you shall be given your chance."

Most of the knights nodded agreement at the king's decision, and Mordred was dismissed from the meeting.

"What do you think, friends?" the king asked.

"I still don't believe the dragon story," Sir Griflet complained.

"It doesn't matter either way," Arthur replied. "Even if the story's untrue, the boy is only repeating what he was told by his mother. It does him no disservice in my eyes that he takes her word. And, as Gawain has pointed out, it
could
be true. No, what I'm asking is, what do you think of the boy?"

"He seems a good lad," Gawain commented. "Frank and honest. He didn't
have
to tell us he wasn't much with a sword."

Several others agreed. Sir Bors said, "Indeed, I like him. It seemed to me that at every question, every challenge, he said
exactly
the right thing."

"And that doesn't bother you?" asked Kai suddenly.

"Eh?" replied Sir Bors.

"When someone always says the right thing, don't you wonder if it wasn't planned that way?"

"And why not?" demanded Agrivaine. "Don't
you
always mean to say the right thing?"

"No," Kai replied abruptly. "I say what I think. And what I think is that the boy's too good to be true. That's suspicious."

"But you think everything's suspicious," snorted Agrivaine.

"There's some truth in that, you know, Kai," Arthur said gently. "Let us not condemn the boy for being better than expected. As for his saying the right thing, he told us himself that his skill is in diplomacy."

The meeting dispersed a few minutes later, and Terence left, his heart still unnaturally cold and heavy in his breast. Except for Kai's comments, which had sounded surly and peevish even to Terence's ears, no one had had anything bad to say about young Mordred. Terence felt suddenly helpless, realizing that he could say nothing against Mordred that anyone would listen to. His own suspicions of Mordred were based on his and Guinglain's deep feelings, not on anything that could be considered proof. Why is it, Terence wondered, that the things you know most surely are always the things you can't demonstrate to anyone else?

Deciding he would just have to keep an eye on Mordred, Terence returned to his chambers to find Gawain awaiting him. "There you are. Come on. Arthur wants us."

"What for?"

"He just sent Kai to find the two of us and Lancelot. We re to meet him in his own chambers at once."

When they arrived, Terence found not only Arthur, Kai, and Lancelot, but also Queen Guinevere waiting for them. "Shut the door behind you," Arthur said. "And bar it."

Terence obeyed in silence, but his mind and senses were unnaturally alert. The king looked somber, but in another way agitated.

"What's wrong, Arthur?" Guinevere asked. "What's going on?"

"I need to talk about something, something that we never speak of."

"What, my king?" asked Lancelot.

"About the affair that you and Guinevere had when you first came to court."

"Arthur!" exclaimed Guinevere, glancing sharply at the others in the room.

"They all know, my love," Arthur said.

"But all that's over now," Guinevere said. "I am sorry. I was young. I thought ... I was foolish. Why must we talk about it again? I wish it were forgotten!"

Now Lancelot spoke. "The queen is right. That ... that episode is over. We both rejected it, and we have both been restored to your favor. Surely you do not suspect—"

"I suspect nothing," the king said. "And I don't bring it up to accuse either of you. You are the love of my life, Gwen, and Lancelot, you are among my most trusted friends. Whatever happened has been forgiven."

"But not forgotten?" asked Lancelot.

"Please, Lance," Arthur said. "Let me finish. When the two of you were—well, during that time—I was driven to distraction, watching you. Maybe some of you remember how I was." Terence and Gawain and Kai all nodded. "To relieve my anguish, and maybe anger, I took to going out on quests alone."

Guinevere's eyes grew wide. "What? But I don't remember—"

"I told you I was going to a monastery for prayer and meditation," Arthur explained, a little sheepishly. "But what I was really doing was challenging every knight I met to combat, then bashing them about. It made me feel better. Only Kai knew what I was really doing. Oh, and Terence."

Gawain blinked. "You knew this, Terence?"

"I was one of the knights that got bashed about," Terence explained. "Back when you were trying to convince me to become a knight and making me practice jousting and such. Arthur found me working at it alone one day and, um, gave me a private lesson."

"But one day, on one of these quests," Arthur went on, "I actually did something worth doing. I was riding alone, as usual, and heard a woman scream. I rode toward the sound and found her in a clearing, about to be attacked by a ... a dragon."

Terence froze, feeling something horrible and inevitable clutch at him. Mordred! The knights were motionless as well. Only Guinevere, who hadn't been at the meeting of the Round Table, responded to this. "A dragon! Really?"

Arthur nodded, his eyes meeting those of the other men, each in turn. "As for the rest, it happened much as young Mordred said. I fought the dragon, killed it, and rescued the damsel—and he was right about her, too: she was very beautiful. She cared for my wounds."

"You were hurt?" exclaimed the queen.

Arthur lifted a sleeve and showed them a long white scar on his left shoulder. "In a few days I was well enough to ride, and I told her I would be going the next morning. She cried and begged me to stay."

"Did she know who you were?" Guinevere demanded.

Arthur shook his head. "I never told her my name," he said, "not even when we ... well, as it seems, when we conceived a son."

"Oh, Arthur," the queen said softly.

Kai scowled at her and snapped, "What did you expect, Gwen?"

"Enough, Kai!" the king said sharply.

"And you never told me?" Guinevere whispered.

"When we began trying to put our marriage back together, it was so hard. I thought this would only make things worse."

Guinevere's eyes blurred, but she forced herself to meet the king's gaze and say, "I love you, Arthur."

"And I you, Gwen. But that's not all," Arthur said. Guinevere's eyes grew wide again, and she clutched her hands together. "Today I learned that son's name: Mordred."

"Mordred," Guinevere whispered. "That boy who ... he's your son?"

"He told the story to the fellowship today."

"Then everyone knows?" Guinevere asked, her voice growing shrill.

"Only those in this room know who that knight was," Arthur said calmly. "But that's why I asked you here. I think ... I think I would like to claim him publicly."

"Arthur, no!" The queen's tone was frantic. "For all these years we ve told no one of my—about Lancelot and me. I've lived in fear that people would find out. I couldn't face it! You can't shame me like this! I ve never betrayed you since then. I never will. Please."

"Your Highness," Gawain said gently to the queen, "the past hasn't been forgotten. People still tell stories about you and Lancelot. Not here, of course, but in other—"

"I know," the queen said, her voice growing wilder. "But as long as we don't admit it here, it's just a story. Arthur, if you admit to fathering a child with another woman, how will it make me look? And you, too! You'll be dishonored as much as I am!"

Arthur's face looked gray and old. Lancelot stared at the floor. Kai and Gawain exchanged glances, and all Terence could think was
Please, don't make Mordred the heir to your throne! Please, no!

Slowly Arthur nodded to the queen. "I will say nothing without your permission."

Public or not, King Arthur's relationship to Mordred complicated matters and only reaffirmed Terence's resolve to keep an eye on Mordred, starting the next morning. That wasn't so easy, though, on account of the acrobats and jugglers and minstrels that had suddenly filled the court.

Terence became aware of these performers shortly after breakfast, when snatches of music began to filter into his and Gawain's rooms from the small court outside their door. Stepping outside, Terence found a crowd listening appreciatively to a band of seven or eight musicians, all with different instruments, playing in the square. Slipping through the throng, Terence made his way to the front, where he found Dinadan. "What's all this?" Terence whispered.

"Shhh," Dinadan hissed back. A moment later, though, when the musicians finished the song they had been playing, he turned to Terence and said, "Wonderful, isn't it?"

"Who are they?"

"Haven't any idea. They just showed up this morning and began playing. They're all good, but having them all together like that, in harmony—absolutely splendid!"

A courtier in the crowd tossed a coin to the musicians, the usual tribute for wandering minstrels, but one ofthe musicians laid down his rebec, took up the coin, and threw it back to the courtier. "Nay, sir," the musician said. "We do not play for money but for love."

"Hard to spend love at a tavern!" called someone.

The crowd chuckled, but the musician went on, "If you wish to gratify us, do not give us money, but help us. Tell the beautiful Lady Sarah of Milrick that a heart lies at her feet, waiting for her to take it up."